


Slow

by missdibley



Series: Old Town [2]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Chicago, F/M, NSFW, One Night Stand, Post-Coital, Smut, lost weekend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-04-27 09:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14422674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: After a chance encounter in "Hard", Mina and Tom slowly get to know each other.





	1. Chapter 1

_But I'm never as tired as when I'm waking up_  
 _No I'm never as tired as when I'm waking up_  
 _But it feels like I'm in love again_  
 _No it feels like I'm in love again_  
 _Though it feels like I'm in love again_  
 _With what ya do_  
LCD Soundsystem, “Never As Tired As When I’m Waking Up”

* * *

It was the middle of the night and I was in bed and for the first time in a while I wasn’t alone. It was hot, and the radiator in my bedroom was so loud as it rattled away. Producing heat enough for me, and for Tom Hiddleston, who lay on top of me.

Tom pulled out, and I groaned. He made soft noises of apology, cooing as he helped me unfold my legs. Kissed my breasts as I stretched. He reached for me, and so I pulled him closer so he could lie, body unfurled and loose and heavy, just alongside. His cock was still damp as it came to rest on my thigh. While I had already had it in me —- hands, mouth, cunt — I was still startled by how heavy it felt. One of his hands lingered on my stomach, lightly, and he brushed over my navel with his thumb.

Tom craned up to kiss me, biting at my bottom lip, then muttered: “Bathroom?”

“Door on the right,” I whispered.

In the dark, I could barely make out the shape of him as he got up and crept down the hall to clean up. Long limbed but he didn’t lumber, there was a charm to the way his hair stuck out this way and that. And while I waited, listening to him pee, flush, wash his hands, I wondered if he was going to stay. I thought I wanted him to. But I wanted him to want to. Then I cursed myself for being an idiot, for seeming so needy in these little moments just as he wandered back into the room.

“Do you have a towel?” He asked.

“Sure,” I replied. “There’s a basket of clean ones at your feet. You’ll have to let the shower run…”

“No, erm…” He scratched his head. “I thought I, or you, or we could…”

I just sat there, still in my sex fog, blinking slowly. “Didn’t you want a shower?”

Tom stooped over, grabbed a towel out of the basket, then approached the side of the bed where I sat. Dropping it in front of me, he held out his right hand and commanded, gently: “Up.” Once I was off the bed, standing at his side, Tom spread the towel before us. He touched my shoulder, then whispered in my ear: “After you.”

I looked up him, smiling when he tapped the tip of my nose. “You’re staying, then.”

He nodded. “If that’s…”

I cut him off when I went up on my toes, reached for the back of his head and pulled it down so I could kiss him. “You should.” I kissed him again. “It’s cold outside.”

When I nudged him forward, he looked at me questioningly. I smiled, and said “Be right back.”

I fetched two glasses of water from the kitchen, and our phones. Mine was still in my purse, while I found Tom’s in his coat pocket. Tom frowned at his iPhone when I handed it to him.

“It’s dead,” he said with a groan. “And I left my charger at my hotel.”

“Check the nightstand behind you,” I said, without thinking. “There should be something in there.”

He turned on the bedside lamp, a $15 cheapie from the dorm essentials collection at Target that wobbled when he plucked at the chain. I knew it’s shade was dusty, and that it should be replaced with something more adult. But that wasn’t nearly as embarrassing as when Tom turned around to show me what he had found in the drawer: a lightning cable and charger in one hand, and my fancy Swedish vibrator in the other.

Sitting back against the pillows, he held the vibe up in the light and scrutinized it, his lips tugged up in a grin. He winked at me. “This is clean, right?”

I froze, and trying to walk the line between cool sexy stranger and inwardly disbelieving fangirl became an impossible feat. I had thrown on a t-shirt when I’d gone to get the water, and hadn’t yet pulled it off to get back into bed, but I felt even barer than when I had been sprawled on top of Tom, ass up in the air as he tongued my pussy.

He wasn’t staring but now he looked curious and intent. He put the vibrator down, then held his hand out to me. “Come.”

Getting in, I let Tom pull my shirt off before we arranged ourselves. It wasn’t quite a cuddle but it was something. Me lying on my back, Tom on his side and turned into me. He propped his chin up on my shoulder and looked up at me. The light was still on, and his glasses were still resting on the nightstand. So there was nothing between us, nothing obstructing his view. He just looked at my face, saying nothing, and held my hand. The last thing I remembered seeing before my eyes fluttered shut was him lifting my wrist to his lips, pressing them to the skin so he could take my pulse again.

* * *

At 9:00am, I woke up alone.

Which was a surprise. A surprise, and a disappointment.

Because I would have liked to have said goodbye. I would have liked to sat in bed while I watched him pull up his jeans, yawn as he wiggled back into his jumper, lace up his shoes. Maybe we would have slept together one more time, sneaking glances at each other in the  cool morning light.

I would have liked to have given him an out if he offered to exchange contact information. I would have been so nice about it. _“This was great, but you don’t have to. You travel, and you don’t have time. Maybe you already have someone at home and this was just… nice.”_ I would have loved to have gotten a tender kiss on the forehead, an invisible souvenir that I would cherish, and keep only to myself. I would have stripped the bed, taken a shower, then treated myself to breakfast.

My place wasn’t very big, so if he was still there I would have known it. After I allowed myself another three minutes to mope, and another two minutes to berate myself for feeling sorry for myself, I rolled out of bed and rolled up the bedding and the towels. I had just dropped the lot in the hallway, next to the little closet that housed my washer and dryer when I heard the door open. And for a second, just for a second, I allowed myself to hope that it was him.

“Mina?”

I walked to the door and smiled. “Hey, Lennie.”

My friend peered at me from the hallway, her green eyes set off by her beloved [ green knit cap ](http://www.sirandmadame.com/accessories/sir-madame-knit-hat-green-confetti). “What’s up? You sleep alright?”

“What makes you say that?” I stepped aside to let her in. “What time is it anyway?”

“9:00 am,” Lennie said. “And the last time I saw you, it was midnight and you were hauling ass out of the bar with Tom Hiddleston.”

I arched an eyebrow at her. “Would you say that was hauling ass?”

“Yes!” replied Lennie, laughing. “And then some girl stumbled back in, whining about a middle aged lady who had dragged Tom Hiddleston off into the night.”

“She thought I was middle aged?” I muttered.

“You _are_ middle aged,” Lennie said, her eyes wide with exasperation. “Though since when do middle aged women sleep in threadbare New Order t-shirts and granny underwear?”

“They don’t,” I said crisply. “Only hot women in the prime of their thirties do.”

“Sure they do,” Lennie said. “So what happened to Tom?”

“He just, you know, got into an Uber. Took off.” The lie came easily. “After that asshole made that dumb crack, I think he just felt bad.”

“Aw!” Lennie said, her mouth slightly downturned. “Well, John couldn’t reach him after he took off.”

“Well, I’m sure they’ve caught up by now. Tom probably just needed to chill alone,” I said blithely. “Drown his embarrassment in room service scotch. In fact, I bet he’s having brunch with your best friend John C. Reilly…”

“Fuck you, Mean-a!” Lennie chriped.

“Tom Hiddleston and John C. Reilly biting into avocado toast samong the hipsters in Avondale…” I sang.

“Poking at acai bowls with sorority girls in Lincoln Park,” Lennie said with a grimace.

“Sorority girls?” I smirked. “I thought they were your type?”

“It was that one time!” Lennie protested. “Geez, bring home _one_ AOPi ten years ago…”

“Whatever happened to her?”

Lennie slugged me in the arm. “So… nothing happened with Tom?”

I shook my head. “I just sort of stuttered that I was a fan, and he thanked me.”

“Not even a selfie?” Lennie frowned when I shook my head again.

“I didn’t ask,” I said. “He seemed down, and I froze again, so…” I gave her what I hoped was my most rueful smile.

“Sucks,” Lennie said. “A chance with your crush and…”

“I blew it?” I asked, quietly.

Lennie hugged me this time. “He missed out.”

Okay, now I felt bad. “It’s fine. We had an awkward moment that will be lost to the sands of time. Not the biggest loss.”

“It’s too bad you gave up acting,” Lennie said wistfully. “You’re really good at making up monologues.”

I shoved her playfully. “Okay, you can go now!”

Lennie got to the door before she turned to face me again. “You wanna come with? I’m heading up to The Bongo Room to meet Misty.”

“Thanks, but no,” I gestured at my living room, which just needed a good sweep and some tidying. “Gonna clean up around here.”

“Got it. Text me later if you wanna catch a movie.”

“Sure,” I said, and waved goodbye as she headed down the stairs. I remained in the doorway, thinking about what I had to do that day — laundry, shower, tidying up — and then there was a rush of cold air from up the front door. I heard Lennie say “Oh, _pardon_ me!” with a laugh. A flirty giggle that I swear I have never heard her make in the fifteen years that I have known her. Another laugh, this one deeper and not as loud, followed by the sound of someone jogging up the stairs.

Tom appeared, bearing two steaming takeaway cups in one hand and a brown paper sack in the other. He nodded at his shoulder, and when he did steam from the cups fogged up his glasses.

“Could you get that?” He asked, indicating the newspapers tucked under his arm.

“Um, sure.”

Grabbing the papers, I watched him walk into my apartment. Through the door, I could see Tom as he set down the cups and bag on my coffee table. He tossed his coat over the back of the sofa before taking a seat, rubbing the cold out of his hands as he considered the cups before him. Before he took one of them, he looked up at me and smiled.

“Mina?” He asked, blinking slowly.

“Hmm?” I asked, only sort of aware of the cold air that still lingered and made me shiver.

“Are you going to stand there in the corridor?” Tom removed the lid of one of the cups to examine its contents. “Or are you going to come here and join me for breakfast?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a cold Sunday morning, Tom and Mina have breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing naughty this time, but I suppose that's what the next chapter is for. :)

__ Don’t wanna rush it   
Let the rhythm pull you in   
It’s here so touch it   
You know what I’m saying   
And I haven’t said a thing   
Keep the record playing   
Kylie Minogue, “Slow”

* * *

Tom Hiddleston looked at home, sitting on my couch.

I’m sure he would look great no matter where he sat but I never would have guessed he could look so comfortable sitting on a generic mid-century modern sofa that, despite the fact that I picked it, never pleased me. It always seemed a little too wide for the room, too low to the ground, and far too deep.

Until Tom took a seat, until he leaned back, stretched his arm to the side, and all of a sudden the sofa made sense. It was scaled to him, or someone long and lean like him, and when he looked up at me, mouth upturned and eyes bright, it was then that I noticed the color of the upholstery matched the color of his eyes. What could have been more domestic, more tempting?

I shut the door behind me and took the seat next to him, setting the papers on the coffee table. I tugged my t-shirt as far down as I could, but it still only hit the tops of my thighs. It felt all sorts of delicious when he set one of his hands, now warm, just above my knee.

“Latte?” Tom’s eyes flitted to the cups then back to my face. “There’s also Earl Grey.”

“The tea, please,” I replied. “What’s in the bag?”

_ “Pains au chocolat,” _ Tom said. “The clerk insisted I try the specialty as she rang me up.”

“Oh?” I grinned. “Did you go to the French bakery on Wells? I love that place.”

Tom nodded, then reached for the bag. I sat, drinking my tea while he produced a squashed looking pastry. It wasn’t entirely clear if it actually was a croissant.

“Erm…”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” I leaned in to examine it more closely. “Maybe it just needs to be warmed up.”

“Could I have misunderstood her?” Tom mused. “She did go on quite a bit out my performance in the X-Men movies while she was filling the order.”

I had to laugh. I mean, I’d read about him being mistaken for Michael Fassbender, but until he confirmed it I never suspected it was actually true. When Tom chuckled, I set my cup down so I could wrap my arms around him at the neck for a hug.

Tom made a happy snuffling sound before kissing my earlobe. “Hello,” he whispered.

I sat back to get a good look at him. His face was pale but his cheeks were rosy. Fading from the red induced by the cold outside. He looked well-rested and content.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Good morning, Mina,” Tom said, quietly.

“I wasn’t sure where you’d gone,” I said.

“I was going to text you that I’d gone out to get coffee, but then I realized I left my phone here. Still charging away.”

“Your phone’s still here?” I looked in the direction of my room. “But I could have sworn I didn’t see it.”

Tom nodded. “Maybe it got overshadowed by that, erm, rather large  _ personal _ device I found…”

“Shut up!” I placed my hands over his mouth to quiet him.

“Make me,” he said, his voice muffled.

When I removed my hands, he kissed me. I closed my eyes, savoring the taste of coffee and chocolate that lingered on his tongue.

“Thanks for breakfast,” I said between kisses. “I’m sure John must be wondering…”

“I sent him a text when I got up,” Tom assured me. “Just to check in. Told him I just went back to my hotel.”

“That’s what I told Lennie, actually,” I confessed. “I said I watched you get into an Uber.”

“Was that Lennie downstairs?” Tom asked. “The bartender from last night?”

“Yeah.” I nuzzled his cheek. “She might have even believed me…”

“Had I not run into her on my way back in,” Tom sighed.

“She’s not going to say anything, you know,” I assured him. “And that girl at the bakery thinks you’re Michael Fassbender anyway, so…”

“I’m not too concerned.” Tom’s lips quirked. “I’ve only arrived here yesterday morning, and I’ve not been bothered since.”

“Except for…” I scowled. “That dick from the bar last night.”

Tom didn’t say anything. He just kissed my jaw when I spoke again: “Tom?”

“Yes, Mina?” He sat back, and took his cup again for another sip.

I took his free hand in mine and held it loosely. “Does that happen a lot?”

“What?” Tom’s brow furrowed, just for a moment. “Oh. You mean…”

“That guy,” I said. “People like that just, you know, yelling…”

“Well, nothing quite so explicit as that.” Tom shrugged. “Paparazzi, sometimes. The airport, or when I’m in Los Angeles for meetings. A few times near home.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” I said, only realizing what a dumb thing that was to say. “Sorry, that was…”

Tom smiled. “I’m touched. That you asked. That you care.”

I nodded, and when I did Tom squeezed my hand back. “It’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

He leaned in to kiss me. “But I have to say that this is infinitely better.”

I remained still, returning the kiss until I had to groan and push him away, albeit gently.

“What’s wrong?” Tom pouted.

“That line you just used was awful…”

“It’s true!” Tom exclaimed.

“Fine,” I conceded. “Can I have my tea back?”

“I will,” Tom said, “On one condition.”

“What condition is that?”

“You do what you promised,” Tom said. “Show me a good time.”

“Excuse me?!” I gestured in the direction of my room. “What did you think last night was?”

Tom stroked his chin, which drove me crazy. “A preview of what’s to come?”

“Ass!”

I swatted at him, and it was so easy to fall into his arms. Wrestle a little, give him a bit of a fight because I needed that friction between us. The contact and the play and the fun. His hands slipping up my back, under my shirt. My fingers pulling at the curls at the nape of his neck when he pinned me beneath him and began sucking my neck.

“I feel that I am at a disadvantage here,” I murmured, staring up at the ceiling.

“You don’t think this is a mutually beneficial agreement?” Tom said between kisses to the crook of my neck.

“I had things to do today, and here you come…”

Before I finished speaking, I felt Tom stiffen. Just for a second, and then he said “I don’t have to…”

“Tom…” I began to say.

He lifted his head, and when I saw his face, I thought he looked… confused? Aghast? Unhappy, I realized. And I didn’t like the look of that.

“I should probably get back, ” he began to say.

I reached out, and Tom leaned into my hand, tilting his head. I gave his beard a gentle little scratch, which made him smile.

“Sorry,” I whispered. “Dumb joke.”

“Alright,” he said. “What do you usually on Sunday?”

“Well, I eat breakfast,” I began to say. “A movie, then I buy groceries for the week.”

“That sounds like a good time,” said Tom, earnestly.

“So does that meant you want to tag along?” I closed my eyes, picturing Tom squeezing tomatoes at Stanley’s Produce. When I laughed, he nudged me.

“Did you shower?” I squinted at his hair, which looked dry and unwashed.

Tom smiled slyly. “I was going to shower when I got back with the coffee.”

“I’ll get you a towel,” I murmured.

“Will you be joining me?” Tom asked.

“Only if you ask nicely.”

Tom kissed me hard, gulping for air as he breathed quickly. His arms snaked around me and there it was. That friction again.

“That’ll do,” I said. “Let’s go.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Mina go for brunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know I'm dragging this out but I assure you this will end, and when it does it will be good.

“You guys been together long?”

The question was put to me and to Tom by the driver of the yellow taxi in which we were sitting. We had grabbed the taxi on Wells just as it was dropping off a couple of tourists in front of  [ Broken English Taco Pub ](http://www.tacopub.com/old-town) .

I turned to look at Tom, who gave me a sidelong glance as he took my hand in his. I squeezed his hand, then replied to the driver: “We’ve just met.”

“New thing, huh?” The cab driver, who, according to his hack license, was named Perry, spoke with an accent. Northwest side of Chicago with a little Greek sprinkled in. “So you guys ain’t boyfriend-girlfriend?”

“No,” said Tom softly. He squeezed my hand back. “Just friends.”

“Well,” Perry said with a yawn. “You two look like you’re up to something.”

“We’re just on our way to breakfast,” I said, earnestly.

“Washington and Morgan, right?” Perry asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

[ “Wishbone?” ](http://www.wishbonechicago.com/dining/westloop/) Perry looked pleased in the rear-view mirror when I nodded. “I’m a  [ Lou Mitchell’s ](http://www.loumitchells.com/) man myself.”

“Lou Mitchell’s doesn’t have booze,” I said.

“Oh?” Perry chuckled. “A little hair of the dog that bit ya?”

Tom leaned over to whisper into my ear: “Does that make me the dog?”

“Dunno,” I peered at him through my lashes, willing my voice not to crack. “Do you bite?”

Tom said nothing, just smiled and looked out the window. When I caught Perry’s eye again, he just shook his head and said “Just friends my ass!”

And so we went, with Perry driving south on Wells before we headed west on Division through what used to be Cabrini-Green. Turning south on Halsted, over the river, past the Tribune Freedom Center until another westward turn onto Grand Avenue. Parts of town that were industrial but slowly turning residential, with condo developments offering units that started at half a million dollars.

I fidgeted, thinking back to my apartment with the leaky faucet in the kitchen and leaky windows and wishing it was cuter. In the light of day, to my slightly addled mind, it looked less like a bachelorette pad and more like a kidnapper’s lair. But Tom didn’t seem to notice or care that my place wasn’t conspicuously adorable. He looked relaxed, at home, whether we were awkwardly flirting on the couch or  _ not _ flirting in my bed.

_ Get over yourself, _ I thought, and began to think about breakfast.

Perry dropped us off at Wishbone, giving a jaunty whistle as he bid us good day. It was still cold, but the sun was out and so there were people crowding the sidewalk as they waited for a table.

“This looks promising,” Tom said as he followed me inside.

I looked around the busy dining room, taking in the colorful walls and the smells of catfish and cheese grits and crawfish cakes and pancakes as they were served to hungry patrons. A waiter heaving a tray of mimosas and bloody Marys sped past, and my mouth watered. “It’s delicious but we may be in for a wait.”

“I reckon that’s what the bar is for?” Tom nodded at far corner of the restaurant, where a pair of bartenders were blending frozen concoctions.

The host was a deeply tanned woman with brassy blonde hair and a pierced nose. She squinted, first at me, and then at Tom. “It’s gonna be forty five minutes,” she said before I even had a chance to ask.

“How’s that sound?” I asked Tom.

“May we wait at the bar?” he asked.

“Sure, honey.” The host handed us a menu to look over while we waited. “Can I get a name?”

“Hiddleston,” Tom volunteered.

“What kind of a name is that?” The host scribbled it on a list.

“English, actually,” Tom replied.

“You could have just told her Tom,” I pointed out.

“Madam, how many Toms are there on the list ahead of us?”

It was then that the host finally took a good look at Tom’s face, because who calls anyone ‘madam’ anymore? But coming out of his mouth, it sounded natural. Musical, even. Her eyes narrowed, yet she smiled at him. Just a little.

“About three, Shakespeare,” she replied, without checking her list. “And it’s still forty five minutes.”

Sitting at the bar, Tom ordered us both coffees and a Cajun Lemonade to share. He took the first sip, his eyes going wide before he coughed and handed me the glass.

“That’s quite brisk, isn’t it?” He reached for his coffee and took a sip.

I was all set to laugh at him before I took a sip myself. But it made me cough, too — it was lemonade spiked with vodka and Louisiana hot sauce, after all.

“Should we get you something more your speed?” I smirked. “Glass of milk?”

Tom glowered at me over the rim of his coffee mug. “No, thank you.”

I held up the menu, offering it to him. “Come on, Tom. Let’s use this time to our advantage.”

We’d barely had our heads bent together when we were interrupted by a cheerful, busty waitress. She wore her bright red hair in two pigtails, youthful which seemed an interesting contrast to the pack of Marlboro lights I saw peeking out of her apron pocket.

“Excuse me?” She chirped.

I felt wary as soon as I noticed her boobs were on full display, straining at the confines of her Wishbone t-shirt and pointed Tom’s way. “Yes?” I asked.

Without bothering to look my way, she continued. “I’m just such a fan of yours, Tom. What are you doing in Chicago?”

“Just visiting,” he said, mildly. He graced her with a smile which, though slight, was still dazzling. At least, that’s how I felt, and he wasn’t even smiling at me.

The waitress sighed. “Is there anything I can get you? A drink? Have you been waiting long? Why don’t I take your order now so it’ll be ready by the time you’re seated.”

“Erm, I…” Tom looked at me. “That could be…”

“And could I get a selfie?” The waitress squeaked. “My friends would just die!”

“Erm, I’d prefer not.” Tom gestured at me. “I’m with someone.”

At which point the waitress seemed to notice me sitting there. “Do you mind?” She asked brusquely.

“Well, I don’t,” I said. “But I think the gentleman said he’d prefer not to.”

The waitress pouted, then crossed her arms below her rack. “Maybe after…”

“Lindy!”

The waitress was startled by the host, who looked ready to strangle her employee as she charged over. But she didn’t, much to my dismay. Instead, the host simply said “I was able to find a table for you. Follow me, please.”

If Lindy the waitress bothered Tom he didn’t seem to show it. But he was quiet, studying his menu while I studied an extra menu that the host provided. But I knew what I was getting, so instead I snuck what I thought were surreptitious looks around the room. Did anybody else notice, or care, who Tom was? He would have blended in, dressed as he was. Like many of the men at Wishbone, he wore a sweater and jeans, a wool coat and sturdy boots. But when he looked up from his menu, I was struck. Not just by how handsome he was but the feeling that there was nobody else there but me and him.

“I don’t think anyone else has spotted me,” he said.

“Does that happen often?” I reached for the lemonade and took a sip, grimacing when I realized it was lukewarm. Grabbing a spoon, I transferred ice from my water glass to the lemonade, then drank again.

“Once in a while, when I’m at home,” Tom said. “But closer to home, when I’m in the park, walking my dog or out for a run, I can get around without much bother.”

“Well, I thought you handled it pretty well,” I said.

“I didn’t always,” Tom said.

“Really?”

“Does that surprise you?”

“Yeah. Because you’re so… affable.”

“It’s not like I was rude previously.” Tom played with his teaspoon. “More like I was more guarded. Closed.”

“And now?” I watched his hands, the long fingers nimbly twirling his teaspoon, and then mine.

“Now?” Tom echoed.

“Last night.” I cleared my throat.

“Eheheheh.” I thought I saw Tom’s cheeks grow pinker, but I couldn’t be sure if it was a true blush or just a shift in the morning light streaming through the windows. And he was staring at the tabletop instead of me. “Well…”

“You go home with some strange girl, vague promises of a good time…” I sat back in my chair.

“What’s not to like about…” Tom looked up and met my gaze. “A friendly girl, with black hair and dark eyes.” He bit his lip. “An easy smile. You looked you knew what you wanted, just standing in my way.”

“I just thought you’d want to get some air…”

“No no no no.” Tom tutted at me. “You said  _ Come on, I’ll show you a good time. _ How could I reuse an offer? It was practically a rescue.”

“And did you need rescuing?” I asked, quietly.

“Huh.” Tom grinned.

“I mean, it wasn’t a life or death situation, was it?” I scooted in, until I could feel my knees knocking against his under the table. “Like  _ The Terminator _ .”

“Come with me if you want to live?’ Tom laughed.

“It’s silly, I know,” I conceded.

“It’s adorable,” Tom murmured. “And it sounds about right to me.”

“I bet you say that to all the terminators,” I cracked.

Before Tom could issue his own retort, a waitress who was not Lindy came by to take our order. I was ravenous, ordering crawfish cakes with scrambled eggs, cheese grits and a biscuit. Tom agree to share an order of mango pancakes, but went the virtuous route by ordering a light spinach omelette with no cheese. I didn’t rub it in when our plates came, and I saw him ogling my crawfish cakes. He didn’t refuse me when I offered him a bite, then another. A few bites of my cheese grits, and half my biscuit.

He told me about his dog, and I told him about my neighbors. We talked about his sisters, and my two younger brothers. Tom said he hadn’t planned to stop in Chicago, but John had been so insistent. And the friend who was looking after his dog in London said she could manage a few more days.

“But you’ve been here before, right?”

Tom nodded. “Yeah, but it was almost a spur of the moment things. Last minute promo and screening for  _ I Saw The Light _ .”

“I remember.” I took a bite of my biscuit. “I was out of town, so I missed it.”

“Ah,” Tom replied.

“But I wanted to be,” I assured him. “I was looking forward to the movie, and coming up with the perfect question to ask you at the Q&A session afterwards.”

“What would you have asked?” Tom stole the last bite of my cheese grits.

“Um…” I looked at the ceiling, as if deep in thought. “So, um, what’s your  _ process _ like?” I asked with a squeak.

“Oh no…” Tom began to laugh.

“Do you, do, like a lot of improv on set?” I blinked rapidly at him. “How did you get so skinny? Was it like a ton of cardio? What do you think of deep dish pizza? What happens to Loki in the next Avengers? Will you read my script? Do you have a girlfriend? What are you doing after this? How do I break into Hollywood?”

“You…” He kept laughing, even as he tried to speak. “You are naughty.”

“Tell me you didn’t get asked even one of those questions.”

“I can’t,” Tom admitted. “But I’ve enjoyed nothing but the finest hospitality on both my visits to Chicago.”

“Except for that asshole at the bar last night,” I blurted out. When Tom arched his eyebrows at me, I shrugged. “Sorry, it’s been on my mind.”

“Whatever for?” Tom put his hand on top of mine. “He was an arsehole. He’s forgotten, as far as I’m concerned.”

“It wasn’t nice, was it? I mean,” I said, faltering a little. “This is a nice city. We’re not all like that.”

“I know,” replied Tom in a soothing voice. “He was probably drunk anyway.”

“I hope he was,” I muttered. “Because if he was sober, and that was his idea of a joke? His stand-up career is doomed.”

Tom walked me to the Whole Foods a few blocks east, listening patiently as I pointed out the various restaurants on Randolph that made the area a destination for foodies from all over. He’d been idly checking his phone, so I figured he had to get back to his hotel. When I found him texting in the middle of the produce aisle, I set down my basket and cleared my throat.

“Oh?” Tom looked apologetic. “Sorry, it’s just…”

“Tom, really.” I touched his arm. “This was lovely, but I’m sure you’ve got somewhere to be.”

“Well, yes, but…”

“Then you should go. Don’t let me keep you,” I said, my voice steady even as my pulse quickened. And my heart was beating fast because I didn’t want this to end. I didn’t want him to go.

“You won’t keep me, I assure you.” Tom tucked his phone into his coat pocket, then picked up my basket. “Is this all?”

“Yeah. Hey!” I jogged after Tom when he starts towards the nearest check-out, my basket still in hand. “What’s going on?”

“I was wondering if you could do me a favor?” Tom said, sounding innocent. “As my friend.”

“As your friend, sure.” I watched him put my groceries — bakers chocolate, flour, sugar, a couple of white peaches — on a conveyor belt for the cashier to ring up. “So what are we doing?”

“Surprise,” Tom said briskly.

“Can I get a hint?’

Tom paid for the groceries, insisting that he was happy to pay the seven cent surcharge for a paper bag. “A hint?” Groceries in one hand, he took my hand with the other.

“Yeah,” I said, and I felt a flutter in my stomach that I knew wasn’t the huge breakfast I’d just eaten.

Tom leaned in, his lips just brushing mine for a second, and then he kissed me. It was nice, how warm his mouth was in the cold air. I felt warm all over, and then he whispered in my ear: “No hint, but thanks for the kiss, Mina.”

I frowned. “Jerk.”

“Tsk!” Tom hailed a cab quickly. “Is that any way to talk to a friend?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the last chapter but I felt so bad about the wait that I thought this deserved another chapter of f*cking.

_Let me take you to a place nice and quiet_  
 _There ain't no one there to interrupt, ain't gotta rush_  
 _I just wanna take it nice and slow_  
Usher, “Nice  & Slow”

* * *

The ride up Halsted Street was rough, as the taxi driver seemed to hit every pothole from Madison to Grand Avenue. Every lurch seemed to send us to the right, swerving into the bike lane and drawing obscenities from the bikers as they pedaled alongside.

Tom squeezed my hand every so often, even as we sat in silence, just watching the city go by. That small gesture felt like a reminder, as if to tell me _I’m here, and so are you. This is happening. You aren’t imagining me. This is real._

I was past the point of doubting myself, that Tom would ever be interested in someone as unremarkable as me. He was, at least as far as fucking and just hanging out went. And it felt good. It was _fine._ I understood that this scenario, however improbable and seemingly sprung from the kind of wish fulfillment fan fiction I rolled my eyes at yet still devoured, was unfolding. And that, like all good stories, it would in time come to its own inevitable conclusion.

The landscape was quick to change, going from industrial to commercial and then retail by the time we turned north on Michigan Avenue.

“So as you can see, this is the wrong side of the tracks,” I joked as we zoomed past Burberry, Ferragamo, Stuart Weitzman, Neiman Marcus.

Tom smirked, peering over my shoulder at the sidewalks crowded with shoppers. “Yes, that lady wielding not one but two shopping bags from the Disney store looks especially lethal.”

“So what’s this surprise you promised me?” I asked, stretching and feeling a bit lazy.

“I thought you could show me the local landmarks,” Tom said. “Notable buildings, the lakefront…”

“Not much of a surprise for _me_ ,” I pouted. “Besides, we have tours for that.”

“But I thought a more personal touch would be nice,” he explained, before turning his eyes on me. They were wide and very blue, and from the faint smirk on his lips, I could see they were going to be effective at getting him what he wanted.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “But you’re buying me a doughnut for my trouble.”

The taxi did a quick left and all of a sudden the soberly dressed doormen of The Park Hyatt were opening doors for us before showing us inside a sleek hotel lobby that was plush and elegant. Mahogany furniture and everything gilded but understated. People spoke in hushed tones, and the quiet felt so still and serene that I wondered if this was the kind of silence available only to the very rich.

And it was not as though I was a chatterbox but when Tom noticed I had been struck dumb by so much luxury he looked sheepish. Still holding my hand, he joked, “I got a Groupon.”

It didn’t occur to me to wonder why we were going up to his hotel suite until we actually got there. As soon as I entered, I kicked off my shoes threw off my bag tossed my coat over a chair as I was pulled to the huge windows that framed a view, _the_ view really.

I heard Tom come up to stand behind me. I wiggled a little when I felt his chin on top of my head, but he didn’t move away.

“And what’s that little building down there?” He asked.

I began to say “Well, it’s the water tower…” but I stopped when I felt his fingers gently pull my hair, which I wore loose, off to trail along my right shoulder. He placed his hand on the back of my neck, just on the nape, where one finger brushed back and forth.

“Is that right?” He sounded idle, as idle as that finger that swept my skin. And then his other hand found my right hand, bringing it up so our fingers intertwined as our hands, now clasped together, came to rest on my hip.

I said something. Whatever it was, I didn’t remember. I knew only that my mouth moved and words came out but I couldn’t hear them over the sound of blood rushing in my ears. I saw clear blue sky and the lake and sunlight fluttering on the water as clouds moved in front of the sun and it was so pretty, even as it began to shrink before my very eyes. Receding, in fact, as Tom walked me back and away from the window. Through French doors into the bedroom, until we fell, a bit clumsily, back onto the bed.

I wasn’t talking anymore. I just sat in his lap and breathed, felt his fingers as they combed through my hair. Pushed it one way and then the other, and then his lips were on the back of my neck. Back on the back of my neck. Just like last night.

It was Tom’s turn to talk. His lips moving as he murmured muttered muddled moaned right into my skin. His hands sliding under my shirt, pushing up my bra so he could grab at me. Instead of teasing, rather than take a delicate approach, he pinched my nipples with his fingers and mashed his palms into my breasts. Why wait for me to dissolve on my own, when he could take me apart himself?

He grabbed my jaw so he could turn me around and present my mouth to him for kissing. None of this should have been a surprise, it should have all been familiar. But still he managed to take my breath away.

I followed, turning around in his lap so I could straddle him.

Push him down, break the kiss, fall into his arms.

Arch my back, roll my hips, grit my teeth.

I pushed up, my hands planted on my shoulders so I could hover, and just looked at him. His eyes were dark and focused, even through the mess of gingery red hair that had fallen over his brow. There was a flush that crept from from the v-neck of his sweater and I wanted to see him. I wanted to see everything.

So I sat back and began to push his sweater up, my hands hovering around the waist of his jeans as he took care of it himself. First the sweater, then the thin undershirt that went under it. He was lean, leaner than he felt last night in the dark. And I liked the look of him. Not the way I’d seen him in various states of undress in so many movies and tv shows and countless GIFs that tended to orbit my head like cartoon birds and me some dirty Cinderella who wants to know what her Prince can do with his sword. It was the way his stomach went up and down as he breathed. The fact of his sparse chest hair, which I tried not to find endearing because it sometimes feels like patronizing which sometimes feels like sympathy. I liked that his nipples weren’t pink. They were brown like mine, though not as dark as mine and I wondered, if I were to press the flat of my tongue against one, what would it taste like.

It tasted like skin, skin that was warm to my taste and to the touch. I let my tongue flit around it, let my breath cool it before closing my lips around to suck, and then Tom clenched a fist in my hair. He didn’t pull or tug though I could feel by the way his hand shook that he wanted to. Direct my lips and my lust down to the cock I could feel trying to burst out of his jeans.

_Okay, Tom. If you insist._

But as a means of reprimand, I let my fingers tease and pinch his nipples while with my mouth I traced a slick trail down the center of his chest to his abdomen. Thumbs were idle as they traced circles but my teeth bit harder and my lips made marks that looked like they would sting in the morning.

 _What is it about this man’s hips?_ , I thought as I bit one. When I felt Tom shudder beneath me, I raised my head as if to put to him that very question. But already he looked addled, almost lost. He was panting and before he could stutter out a word — a command? a plea? a threat? — I grinned and began to grind my palm against him. He felt big and hard, and warm. It was Christmas, all this excitement and anticipation and nerves, and I slid back off the bed. Knelt between his legs. Ripped off my own sweater and bra, my jeans and panties and socks, because it was just so fucking hot. Squeezed my tits between my arms as I unzipped and unbelted and pulled his jeans down and off his legs as Tom lifted his hips off the mattress and if he said things like “Fuck” and “Yeah” and “I want you to suck me” then that was a waste of time. He needn’t have bothered _saying_ all those things when his cock, now free and stiff and dark and about to be in my grasp, _showed_ me.

He was big, and uncut. I remembered the first item from last night, but the second was a revelation. This was only the second uncircumcised dick I’d ever had the pleasure to know and unlike the first Tom’s was elegant. It would have been refined had it been, say, an inch shorter and maybe a quarter of an inch less thick. It was made be to be touched, and so I did. And there was that pulse again and it was like I was commanded to stroke. To work the foreskin up and down, working by quarter inches, exposing then hiding the head which was so shiny with pre-cum but before I took it in my mouth I looked up at Tom and, as soon my eyes met his, as soon as I could see the desire on his face, I drooled a little then began to suck the tip. My eyes never left his face. Why would I stop looking at him? He was an angel. He was literally the hottest guy I’d ever fucked. And now we were going to do it again.

Pushing his knees apart, I began to take more of him into my mouth. I chased that pulse, breathing with it until I could feel the ache in my jaw. Which was my fault for being so goddamn eager. I sat back, replacing my mouth with one of my hands so I could stroke him. I felt very centered as I did this, and maybe that was the reason why it occurred to me that I should start sucking at the tender skin of his inner thighs. It was so soft down there and it didn’t smell disgusting like it did with other guys who were not Tom Hiddleston. Not like it was their fault but he smelled good. I wanted to know if he tasted as good as he smelled even in this intimate place and my tongue itched so I swallowed his balls and just sort of held them. I held them and I closed my eyes and worked his cock with one hand while the other was teasing my own wet slit.

I had no idea if this was stupid or not but it felt fucking incredible. He was so hot and I thought I was going to burn and then I looked up at his face and he looked dazed and desperate and completely in my thrall. Who had seen this face before? Not his sex face or his come face but a look of wantonness that, despite the carnality of it, felt so pure.

And last night felt like it was all about me so I wanted to do nothing but focus on him. Because if last night was “the night Tom Hiddleston fucked me” then today was “the day I fucked the shit out of Tom Hiddleston”.

I was going to do it.

I already was doing it.

Make him whimper, make him moan, make him whine and plead because there was nothing but me.

As much as I enjoyed sucking on his balls, I preferred sucking his dick so I did just that. My head bobbing up and down as I swallowed more, sometimes releasing him so I could run my tongue up and down the veins of the shaft. And then the last time I took him in my mouth I looked at Tom’s face through my lashes, observing the set of his jaw and the way his brow wrinkled. His facial contortions betraying so much need that I felt drunk on my own power and supposed prowess. His arms were just long enough so that his hands once again grabbed my hair and I could feel his fingers tighten as I sucked harder. I choked, just a little because I was so eager and he was so big, and he tugged on my hair and it was sharp but I nearly came because it was fucking hot. I may have been running the show but there wasn’t a question of who was in charge.

Now whenever I took a breath I whined. Gasped my way through the homestretch because his cock was so big only now it felt bigger, the pulse and all the blood rushing to his cock and in my ears and it was a rush and push and his voice urging me. “God… unf… fuck. Harder. Harder. Oh god yes… fuck… fu…” and then Tom moaned and I heard them and I felt them and I tasted and his hips were pumping faster and his hands were holding fast and I was certain I was going to drown in his cum or my juices because I was so wet and so close I could put Lake Michigan to shame.

When Tom began to come, I was almost knocked off because his hips bucked and hard. I felt his cum hit my mouth and my face and my chest and my hands because I had him in hand now. Stroking as I licked and sucked the head and then it was over and then i heard a sob that could have been him or me. His cum was sticky and wet and still warm on my skin and when his eyes narrowed, focusing on the sight of me, he lifted one hand and beckoned with a weak flutter of his fingers. I pulled myself up, back onto the mattress, and up his long body. I saw how his cock lay upon his leg, fresh and wet from my mouth, and the valley of his abdomen as he breathed.

Tom slipped his arms around me as I brought my own arms to rest on either side of his face. I loved his beard but I wished he was clean-shaven so I could see the delicate curl of his lips in better detail. I wanted to see his sweet mouth when he smiled and licked his lips and gave a little laugh as he pulled me in for a long, slow kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

Hotel bathroom amenity kits really need wipes. Wet naps. Whatever you call them. Just as long as they’re gentle and effective and strong enough to remove anything.

Dirt.

Makeup.

Semen.

There wasn’t a lot of it, but enough. I could feel it on my chest, on my neck. The corner of my mouth.

There was a box of tissues on the nightstand, so I grabbed one to clean off my face. I could feel Tom watching me as I did, and that made me feel a little self-conscious.

And that made me laugh.

For fuck’s sake, I had this man’s balls in my mouth. I had sucked him off, he came in my mouth and on my face and tits, and  _ now _ I was feeling self-conscious?

“What’s so funny?”

Tom had moved his glasses up to rub his eyes. When I saw that, I shook my head at him.

“Not so fast,” I warned.

“What do you mean?” Tom blinked at me as I scooted up to lie alongside him.

“No sleeping,” I declared.

“I am not going to fall asleep!”

“You did last night after we did it,” I reminded him.

“It was late!”

“It’s okay.” I shrugged. “A lot of older men find that…”

Tom began to tickle me, cackling mercilessly while I struggled against him. He had one arm wrapped around me while his free hand started at my neck, then traveled down my chest until it hovered near the tops of my thighs. I placed my hand on top of his, bringing it to rest on my stomach.

He sighed contentedly. “My refractory period is perhaps a touch longer than it used to be.”

I squeezed his hand, but said nothing.

Tom began to trace circles on my stomach with his fingers. “Is there something I can do for you in the meantime, then?”

“Something else?” I mused. “While we wait?”

“While we  _ rest _ ,” he corrected me, gently.

“Fine,” I scoffed.

But I did rest, keeping my ear pressed to his shoulder as I only sort of stared ahead. My view was of him — belly, hips, cock, legs, feet. The foot of the bed, the French doors which, having been left open, framed the sitting room of his suite. There was no sound but his breathing, and mine.

It was restful. But I felt restless.

This made no sense to me. I had nowhere to be and, as far as I knew, neither did Tom. It was Sunday, and a lazy one at that. I hadn’t asked him when he was due to return home, but I did pay attention when he talked about his dog back in London. Was there somebody else waiting for him at home?

If there was, it was none of my business. But it did occur to me that if there was, whatever arrangement Tom may have had with them, I can’t imagine that sex with a stranger — excuse me,  _ unprotected _ sex with a stranger — would be permissible.

And then I felt bad. Not about sleeping with him but for letting this stray thought get into my head. This was a singular event, a fluke. Revel now, rehash later.

“Tom?”

“Yes?” Tom’s fingers stopped combing my hair.

“You sleepy?”

Tom yawned a little. “Perhaps.”

“I don’t suppose you could…”

“What?”

“Recite something for me.”

“Recite?” Tom brought his hand under my chin, so he could tip my face up and look at him. And when I did, I saw that he looked intrigued.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“Whatever for?”

“Well, you’re an actor, right?’

He smiled. “Yes.”

“And from what I’ve read…”

“What you’ve read?!”

“From what I hear, you’re pretty good at it.”

Tom smirked. “I do okay.”

“So,” I continued. “Recite. Tell. Speak.”

“Whatever shall I…”

“Monologue,” I suggested. “Or a little verse.”

“Well, I’m not sure that I…”

“Listen, English,” I interrupted. “I’d be happy to recite to you myself. I have had some training. But I am no poet.”

“I’m sure you’d do fine,” said Tom, sweetly.

“Also my throat’s a bit sore from…” I trailed off, blinking up at him.

“What was that again?” Tom licked his lips. “Remind me, please.”

“From when I was choking on your cock,” I murmured. “Sucking you off.”

Tom cupped my jaw with his hand, then stroked my face until his thumb rested upon my lips. He said, in a dark voice: “I don’t know, Mina. That sounded quite poetic to me.”

“It sounds like a bad porno, what I just said,” I replied, laughing.

“So it’s for me to give you pornographic poetry,” Tom declared. “Or would that be poetic porn?”

“What’s the difference?”

“Well, meter, for one,” replied Tom. “Then there’s the rhyming scheme.”

“Get on with it, already!”

Tom stuck out his tongue at me, and I did it right back at him. I scooted up for a kiss, then settled down snuggled into his chest. Closing my eyes, I listened to the soft, nasal burr of his voice. He tried a few lines while he resumed playing with my hair.

_ “For, thou betraying me, I do betray my nobler part to my gross body’s treason;” _

I had been holding on to his hip, lightly, and rubbing my thumb along it. Skin stretched taut, with no fat. I liked to touch his stomach which, as I’d discovered the night before, was softer than it looked.

Tom’s voice was soft, too, but there was something in it now. A tone that was sharp, even while he spoke so slowly:  _ “My soul doth tell my body that he may triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason, but rising at thy name doth point out thee as his triumphant prize.” _

_ “Rising at my name,” _ I repeated, and it was like a command. The words somehow prompting my hand to slip from his stomach down to his cock. To take him in hand again, trace the veins that wound up the shaft with my fingers, before sliding the foreskin back and then up again over the head.

Tom’s breath hitched, but when I let go of him, he sighed “Don’t stop.” And then he said:

_ “Proud of this pride, he is contented thy poor drudge to be, to stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.” _

I squeezed him gently, stroked again, brushed my thumb just under the head. Tom shuddered but I didn’t change the way I held him. I couldn’t let go, as the skin was velvety soft even while he hardened. When I turned my head to check, I saw how his face changed, his mouth went slack, and the weight of pleasure made his eyelids flutter.

I looked down again. Back at my hand as I twisted my wrist this way and that, still caressing and touching. Tom stopped combing through my hair, instead resting his palms on the back of my head and I liked it. I liked the feeling of his nails digging ever so slightly into my scalp. 

_ “No want of conscience hold it that I call her ‘love’ for whose dear love I rise and fall.” _

The end of the sonnet was slow, every word dripping honey, and as he spoke I felt something hot and tight in my belly. I smacked my lips a little as my mouth began to water. This was no surprise. The longer I touched him, the longer I spent watching his cock twitch and get darker and harder and heavier in my hand. The head shiny again with pre-cum, revealed and concealed every time I slid the skin up to conceal the tip, and down again to reveal it. Playing with him, teasing the sensitive spots and not stopping even when I heard his sharp intakes of breath.

Did I crawl, or did he pull me up? I stretched, moved, shifted into another position so that we could be close once more. Arms reached and fingers became entangled above, while below my hips burned even as they pressed up against him. I could feel his thighs rub against me, legs bending at the knee so he could plant his feet on the bed. I was cradled now, and it wasn’t drowsiness that made me feel like I was sinking into him.

I pressed my face into his neck, but it wasn’t for long as he tipped my chin up to him. Now finished with his recitation, Tom kissed me. Forehead, temple, cheekbone, mouth. Close mouthed, only for a second, and when he opened his mouth we breathed before becoming sealed. His beard was soft against my cheek. His face was made for nuzzling. Tom’s tongue felt fat and lazy in my mouth, flicking just into my lips before plunging further in search of my own tongue to tease and tangle with.

When I dared separate, to break the kiss and catch my breath, Tom growled then slipped his hand behind my head. He kept me in place, his other hand having slipped down my back, cupped my bottom, and squeezed.

I ground down, into him, legs spread wide but he made no move to fuck me. He didn’t roll me onto my back and thrust into me. He didn’t push me up and back, giving me a little room to attend to my clit myself while he took himself in hand and probed his way in. He just kissed me, whimpering and panting when he could make himself break the kiss. Take a breath, then start all over again.

When Tom began to suck on my jaw, I crawled up a little to offer my neck, the slope of my chest and then eventually my right breast. I loved the way his tongue swirled around the nipple, and when his hands found their way to my breasts to touch me there. I planted my hands against the headboard which, though ridiculous in appearance as it was upholstered and actually  _ leather _ , felt comfortable. It made it easier to center myself, remain steady even as the ministrations of Tom’s hand and his tongue, the persistence of his cock against my ass, threatened to make me come undone. I looked down, dizzy and disbelieving still at the sight of him sucking on my breasts. I was always a sucker for nipple play, and he knew what he was doing. Swiping his tongue back and forth across the hardened tip. Nipping them at his teeth, growling in delight when I whined and then moaning when he sucked again to soothe.

I sat back, taking my tits out of his mouth’s reach much to his dismay. I wanted him inside me, and when I ground my pussy against his cock, Tom bucked his hips.  _ “Fuck,” _ he said, jaw clenched and I loved the sound of frustration in his voice. I rolled my hips, then reached between my legs in search of his cock. It felt hot now, and hard and big and just  _ perfect _ . The head of his cock hit my clit as I began to position myself and I felt it everywhere. A shiver of anticipation and need, with Tom’s laughter in my ears because I shouted.

“C’mon, love,” he urged me. I looked up, right into his eyes and focused on him. I only closed my eyes when I felt him enter me, wanting nothing to distract from the feeling of him as he entered me. And when he was seated, and I was about to plant my hands on his chest so I could rock myself, I was surprised by the feelings of Tom’s hand. It brushed against my throat, his long fingers trailing down and then there was not one but two hands placed, just so, on either side of my neck. Thumbs pressed into veins, connecting to the blood as it pumped through and he held me up.

All I did was sit, tighten around him so I could better feel how his cock twitched. There was tension there, and in the slight rise of his hips. I wanted to fuck. He wanted to fuck. We were ready.

But I didn’t want to start yet. It just felt so good. Not just his cock but everything. The way my face got hot when I saw him staring at me. How I got wetter when he stared at my tits and licked his lips. The hands, his hands, as they slipped up and grasped my neck. I felt his nails digging, just a bit, and while I never believed that people could belong to one another in that moment I belonged to Tom.

I felt it in my skin. I felt it in my bones.

I felt him in my skin. I felt him in my bones.

I opened my legs for him, arched my back and pressed my breasts into his mouth. Gave him my mouth to fuck, my hand to use.

And this feeling that came over me, that got my hips moving and my sex clenching around him. I felt grateful. Not out of pity because, sadly, I knew what a pity fuck and this definitely was not it. This was gratitude. Luck. I wanted it to last forever, or as long as he continued to look at me the way he did. Like he was the lucky one. Like he didn’t have thousands of women and thousands of men who wanted nothing more to be where I was. Sliding up and down his dick, breathless and at his mercy.

I had to go up on my knees to take him in deeper with every downward thrust, which freed Tom to pump up. Harder and faster, and the delicious ache of his cock felt like fire. He was hitting me right where he needed, a fact that I announced by simply shouting  _ “Yes! Yes! There! Oh fuck you, yes yes yes!” _ and Tom was laughing but then he chanting.  _ “Are you close? Fuck, tell me you’re close. I’m going to… I want to… oh god.” _

My hands clutched at his wrists, not because I wanted to be released but because I needed something to hold onto. Something solid and real and alive, to ground me, because the throb of him simply wasn’t enough. I felt his pulse again, and when I did it made me whole. It made me warm and it made me come, stiffening even as Tom continued to chase his own climax. I bore down, tightened around him and held on from within. I had to, he was too strong and I was soon lulled into a happy trance by the wet sound of his cock as it slipped within and without. Before I could collapse, Tom grabbed my hips to keep me in place as he came.

I loved that feeling. Of him coming inside. And not because we were so close and connected and this felt so intimate. It did, but on a visceral level I loved his hard cock and his cum slick and hot. I fell over and sort of spilled into Tom as he caught his breath. His arms crossed over my back and then he was kissing the top of my head again.

“How’s your neck?” He whispered.

“Fine,” I replied.

“May I?”

Tom gently took my face in his hands, lifting my head up so he could examine my neck himself. He sucked air between his teeth, hissing. “Shit, there’s a mark. Marks, in fact.”

“Pink?” I yawned. “Red?”

“Pink,” he confirmed.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, kissing him. “It felt good.”

Tom bit his lip, looking unsure even after I nodded. “It’s fine?”

“Yes, Tom.”

I rested my head against his chest, and shut my eyes. I felt myself dropping off, not moving when Tom murmured something about using the bathroom before we fell asleep.

“Gimme a minute,” I muttered. “Just an another…”

The sound of knocking interrupted me, making me jump with surprise. I scowled at Tom.

“I could have sworn I put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ tag on the door,” Tom grumbled.

“Are you gonna get that?”

“Give it a minute,” Tom promised. “They’ll go away.”

They did not go away. The knocking continued, and I grabbed a pillow to pull over my head. I did not resist when Tom, with a great heaving sigh, gently rolled me off him before rolling off the bed. He stood there, naked and smiling sweetly as he pulled his jeans on and shrugged back into his sweater. Closing the French doors behind him, Tom left me to stretch a bit more and then it was my turn to get dressed.

I sat on the bed, the duvet removed and folded on the floor, and waited for Tom to finish talking to whoever it was that had come to interrupt. Room service? Housekeeping? Whoever they were, they took a while. It wasn’t long, actually, but ten minutes could feel like forever when you had to wait, and hide.

When I heard the door close, I slipped out of the bedroom. Finding Tom standing by the window, I walked over and shrugged.

“If that was housekeeping, could you let them know you need a duvet?” I grinned. “Yours seems to be, you know, soiled.”

Tom  rolled his eyes. “I just called room service. Afternoon tea service sound alright?”

I nodded. “That would be nice.”

“I thought so,” said Tom, agreeably. “I figured we could have it in the bath.”

“Well, isn’t that romantic?”

“It’s not too much?” Tom reached out, touching my hair so he could wid a lock around his finger.

“No.” I stood on my toes and kissed his cheek when he leaned down to offer it. “It’s lovely.”

Another knock on the door, and I rocked back on my heels. “That was fast!”

Tom smiled. “Well, they said they put a rush on it.”

“I’ll get the door,” I replied, turning on my heel to walk across the room. The carpet was soft under my bare feet, and all I could think of was getting into the soaker tub while Tom fed me macarons. Boyfriend-girlfriend stuff, and I embraced it. The warm, fuzzy feeling that I knew was exactly the way I wanted to finish this weekend.

Opening the door, I began to say “Hello, and thank…” before I was confronted with the sight of John C. Reilly standing in the corridor. When he saw me standing there, he looked startled but smiled warmly.

“Lennie’s friend, right?” He scratched his chin. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Um, y-yeah,” I stuttered. “Won’t you…?”

“I, uh, left my gloves here. Oh!” John pointed at a small table, indicating a pair of shearling gloves that lay folded on top. “There they go.”

“And here you are,” Tom said, stepping forward to return them. “You remember Mina.”

“That I do, though I don’t recall that you knew each other.”

“I, ah, I helped him find his way back to the hotel last night,” I lied.

“And she was feeling unwell so, erm, I let her stay. Take the bed, and I took the couch.”

“Wow, um,” said John with a sly grin. “That is a rather detailed explanation.”

“Is it?” Tom asked, his voice cracking.

“Anyway, thanks again for the chat. I’ll set things up with Mike. When are you back in town?’

_ He’s coming back? _ I looked up at Tom, but he only smiled in a vague sort of way before clearing his throat.

“A month? Six weeks?”

“Perfect,” John said. “Plenty of time to finalize details, confirm the others.” He smirked. “Let that little, uh, love bite, heal up nice.”

“What?” Tom blushed, and he felt at the side of his neck.

“Or is that a mosquito bite?” John mused. “Strange. You don’t usually see that in winter.”

I shut the door behind John, standing there for a moment while Tom waited behind me. When I spun around to look at him, he had his hand out to me.

“Mina,” he said, smiling. “If I tell you something, promise not to spill?”

“Sure,” I replied, a bit too blithely. “What are friends for?”


End file.
